Marriage Law Loopholes, or: Why the Wizarding World Needs Google
by nightgigjo
Summary: Hermione tries getting around a recently-passed marriage law, with some surprising consequences. A continuation, with permission, of Why the Wizarding World Needs Google by MagdaTheMagpie on AO3.
1. Chapter 1

Ha! They thought they could shackle her with their stupid Marriage Law for the Promotion of Wizarding Wealthfare, but every law had a loophole, and Hermione had found hers: if she was already married before midnight, they couldn't marry her off to the first available wizard like a piece of meat at the butcher's.

All she needed was a wizard, which could have been a problem, but the good news was she only needed _a name _to fill the parchment, and the best part was they didn't even ask for proof whether that person existed or not! By the time they managed to prove he _didn't _, she would have that stupid law repealed and buried under a ton of dragon dung.

So… a made-up name. That wasn't her forte, as her poor alias she had given the one time the snatchers had caught her during the war proved, but she had a plan. Opening _Hogwarts, A History_, Hermione flipped the pages, stopped at a random page and pointed her finger at what would be her future made-up husband's first name: _The_.

Well, that wouldn't do. She tried again. _Goblin_. Urgh. No. _Loos_. No! _Disembowelment_. Oh, come on! Her favourite book had never let her down before, but it took her another twenty minutes to finally find an acceptable name: _Stephen_. She would just have to strive to forget her imaginary husband was named after a dark wizard's pet toad.

A glance at the clock determined she had more than enough time to find her husband's name… if she wasn't too picky. Starting anew, she lifted her finger to peek at the word hiding underneath: _strange _. Okay… Strange. Mr and Mrs Strange. Stephen Strange. Hermione Strange. She giggled. That wasn't half bad.

Scrawling the new name of the parchment, she watched in satisfaction as it glowed gold and vanished in a shower of sparks. Her marriage was filed at the Ministry. That was easy. She was now officially married and off the hook of their ridiculous marriage law until they could prove otherwise. Good luck with that! It was far easier proving some existed rather than that they didn't.

* * *

Across the ocean, days later, Wong tried to chase away an irate owl from the sanctum, without much luck.

"It's day, you silly bird! Go sleep up a tree or something!"

But the feathery menace dive-bombed Strange the second he stepped in the hall, dropping a parchment in his hand and poop on his boot.

"Wong? What did you do to the mailman?"

"That is not the mailman," Wong replied, and rolled his eyes at having to state the obvious.

"This letter begs to differ." His eyes scrolled down the thick parchment, then up at him. "According to this, I'm a newlywed! I'll just pop over and say hello and meet her, but I expect a wedding gift when I return."

Before Wong could ask if he was serious, Strange had opened a portal and vanished, but he had a glimpse of a pale woman with crazy hair and fluffy pajamas. So, after much consideration, he put on his Beyonce playlist and browsed online shops for a sturdy hairbrush.

* * *

Hermione's initial glee at outsmarting the bigots who somehow still ran the Wizarding World had worn off into unease, and then slight nervousness. With announcements of marriages popping up everywhere - the Daily Prophet had _literally _ceased to write about anything else - she became less and less certain that she was going to get away with inventing a husband to get out of this law. She had been so excited about the loophole that she had somehow convinced herself that she would fly under the radar, just so long as the Ministry didn't have her on the unmarried list anymore.

The morning the law went into effect she had woken up with a pit in her stomach that would not subside. When the day had passed without event, she had talked herself down enough to sleep that night. Then two more days had gone by, without so much as a peep from her friends.

Admittedly, Harry and Ginny had been married for years, and even though Ron's engagement to Lavender Brown had been announced just days after the Marriage Law had been proposed, Hermione knew he'd been working up the courage to propose for weeks beforehand. She was the only one of her friends who had shown no intentions of marrying, and they were all busy with work and lives and children. Their paths just didn't cross often enough.

The morning of the fourth day after the Marriage Law had gone into effect, Hermione had picked up her copy of the Prophet from the windowsill where the delivery owl had left it hours before. She hadn't even unfolded it until she'd had her morning coffee firmly in hand, and had settled in at the breakfast table in her tiny London flat.

And, lo and behold, her nerves had been right.

Hermione's heart sank as soon as she saw the headline.

And then someone opened a fiery portal in the middle of her living room.

"I understand congratulations are in order."

Hermione gaped openly at the dark-haired man who stepped through into her apartment. He was tall and lean, and moved with an odd grace that was somehow a combination of utter control and arrogant swagger. He wore a long blue tunic and breeches with a wide leather belt around his waist, and a red cloak around his shoulders that radiated power. His hair was distinctly grey at the temples, but if his fair-skinned face was any indication, he wasn't much older than she.

The portal snapped shut behind him, cutting off the view of an absolutely ancient, rather _magnificent _library. The intruder looked her up and down, his piercing blue eyes calculating.

In other circumstances, Hermione might have withered under that assessing gaze, but two shocks in a row had woken her up fully. She shot out of her chair, furious.

"I don't know who you are, but you have no right to just barge in-"

"Oh," he purred, clearly pleased with himself, "I think you'll find that, legally, I have every right to be here. I am your husband, after all."

Three shocks were simply too much. Hermione collapsed bonelessly into the chair again.

**A/N:** This is a continuation of Why the Wizarding World Needs Google by MagdaTheMagpie on AO3. She kindly let me take her charmingly hilarious 500-word chapter and run with it. She is AMAZING and you need to go read her stuff Right. Now.

The first two sections of Chapter 1 are entirely Magda's work. The rest of this chapter and what else is to come is all me, and she isn't to blame for any of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Strange stood in the middle of the simple flat, peering at the woman who was, apparently, his wife.

He had come through the portal to confront the woman who had put his name on a marriage license without so much as having met him. He'd been too bemused to be really angry about it, considering that he was perfectly able to reverse such a thing if need be. Whether she knew that, of course, remained to be seen.

He had seen her through the portal, of course, before he stepped through. She'd looked ordinary enough. Wildly curly hair, dark eyes, good cheekbones; a late sleeper in flannel pajamas. He'd been prepared to tease her a bit, show off a bit more, and then talk her into a no-fault divorce.

He hadn't been prepared for her to be quite so _intriguing _.

Once he had stepped into her apartment, he had been caught in a wave of energy emanating from her. It had been overwhelming, and he had almost lost control over the carefully constructed facade he'd been determined to keep while dealing with this unexpected intrusion into his life. He had only just managed to maintain a neutral expression during their conversation, while he examined the power she exuded. It created a halo-like aura around her entire being.

When she had risen in anger to confront him instead, he felt his hard-won control dissipate entirely. This woman wasn't intriguing - she was _magnificent _.

And then his announcement had taken the wind out of her sails.

She stared at him, realization dawning. "So you're-"

"Doctor Stephen Strange."

The woman dropped her head to the table in defeat. "I knew it," she mumbled out from under masses of curly brown hair. "I knew it was too much to hope for."

"What was?"

"You weren't supposed to exist!" she wailed. "I made up a name to put on that stupid form and of course it turns out to belong to a bloody _wizard _!"

"Sorcerer," he corrected automatically.

"_ Wait. _" Her eyes narrowed. "You mean to tell me you weren't born with magic?"

Strange shook his head. "I am not a natural mage, no. I know a community of such people exists, but they prefer to keep themselves hidden. I had no interaction with that world, presumably, until an owl delivered a marriage license to me early this morning."

What started as a bitter laugh turned quickly into ugly crying. The woman unfolded a newspaper and shoved it across the table at him.

He read:

_SECRET MUGGLE HUSBAND! _

_Trio's golden girl makes match without magic, smashing single wizards' hopes! _

_Vocal opponent to the Marriage Law for the Protection of Wizarding Wealthfare and last remaining single member of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin etc etc, whose love-life has been a topic of interest since before the second fall of You-Know-Who, has apparently fooled us all! It has come to this reporter that Granger, in an apparent effort to flout the newly-enacted Marriage Law, has connected herself to a Muggle in the most intimate fashion. Sources within the Ministry refuse to divulge the identity of Granger's plebeian paramour, but considering her reputed ability with memory-altering charms, this reporter wonders if the unfortunate man even understands his fate. _

Tabloid journalism with a side order of fascism. Charming.

Strange looked at her askance. "Muggle?"

"Non-magical."

"Ah." That explained the laugh.

"It's not fair," the woman - Hermione - complained. "This law is completely ridiculous, and no one _cares _. I refuse to marry whomever the Ministry pleases and start popping out babies because a bunch of bigots think they can order witches about."

And _that _explained the bitterness.

Strange looked her over. He had already seen her take a remarkable number of difficult events in stride, and he'd only met her fifteen minutes ago. From what he could discern, his stepping through a portal into her living room had not ranked very high on that list.

A sizzling noise behind him heralded the arrival of yet another person in the apartment. Strange turned to see Wong, earbuds tucked into the neck of his tunic.

"Oh good," Hermione grumbled, "you brought a friend."

The newcomer eyed her curiously. "I suppose-"

"-congratulations are in order? Yes, I've heard."

"So this is your little love nest, Strange?" Wong turned his head from side to side, surveying the place. "Not bad," he said. "Needs a library."

Strange just rolled his eyes. "Wong, meet Hermione. Hermione, Wong. I'm afraid I'm not all the bad news she's had this morning."

"What did she do, invent a husband, and come up with you?"

Hermione flushed beet red, dropping her head to the table once more.

"I knew you were a figment of my imagination," Wong snarked.

Strange grabbed Wong by the arm and pulled him aside. "She is one of the mage-born, Wong. Apparently she invented a husband to prevent her government from assigning her one."

"Considering the situation, I can't blame her, even if you were what she ended up with," Wong replied phlegmatically.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. "In any other circumstances, I would just insist on a divorce, but that alone won't work here. We need a plan."


	3. Chapter 3

Wong gave Strange a skeptical look. "You really want to get involved?"

"My name's on that marriage license. I'm already involved."

Wong shrugged. "Fair enough." He walked back over to Hermione's breakfast table. "May I sit?"

"Sure, fine, my home is always open," she muttered from under her hair.

"I am not a wizard," Wong began, "but I know something of the laws of the magic you serve. It is my understanding that such a contract would bind your magic to it, is that correct?"

Hermione nodded glumly.

Wong nodded solemnly. "This does limit your choices. What does the law say?"

"Just that every witch who isn't married has to get married and start having children."

"But what is the exact wording?" Wong insisted.

"One moment." She flung out an arm towards the back room and said, "_Accio _Marriage Law announcement". A folded piece of parchment soared through the air directly into her waiting hand.

"Let's see," Hermione said, unfolding the document. "'Be it resolved on this, the fifth day of May, in the two hundred eleventh year since the Ministry's founding, in accordance with the Statute of Secrecy (ICW 1689), the Wizengamot declares it the responsibility of every unmarried witch of childbearing age in the Wizarding World to be legally and magically bound to a wizard, for the purposes of sustaining wizardkind. Any witch of childbearing age in the Wizarding World who fails to so bind herself to the man of her choice before the first day of November of this same year, shall be found in violation of this Law, and will be assigned to a wizard at the Ministry's discretion."

The two men shared a look.

"So you see my predicament. If I'm not married to someone, they'll enforce this ridiculous law, and I won't have a choice," she explained. "I would never have picked your name if I had known you were a real person. I thought, with a false name, I could at least buy myself some time, and try to fight this."

"You should leave," Wong grunted.

"What?" the other two replied in tandem.

"Leave. If you are no longer part of the Wizarding World, the law cannot not apply to you."

Hermione considered this. "I'd have to give up magic. At least, that's what the Ministry says: to live in the Muggle world permanently is possible, but it requires giving up your wand."

"You use a wand?" Wong asked.

"Most of the time," Hermione confirmed. "It's a focus. We get them when we start school, to help us learn."

"But you summoned that letter without a wand," Strange interjected.

"Yes, but that's a simple spell. Once you know a spell well enough, it's possible to cast it wandlessly - even without the incantation, if you're good enough."

Again, Strange and Wong exchanged a look.

"Then," Strange continued, "you don't have to give up magic. You just have to give up a tool."

"Well, I suppose," Hermione said, frowning. "I still can't use magic in front of non-magicals though, not without a risk of breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

"Possession of a magical focus doesn't change this fact," Wong stated flatly. "And you have both the power and the temperament necessary to master difficult spellwork without an external focus. Sorcerers use foci as well, when we are still learning, but once you gain mastery over yourself, you will not need the assistance of an object of any kind."

The corner of Strange's cape flipped up to whack Wong on the back of the head, but the sorcerer ducked out of reach. "I was not talking about you, you ridiculous artifact."

The cape's edge floated back down to hang from Strange's shoulder once more, though it seemed to be sulking.

Hermione watched this display in a mixture of disbelief and fascination. There was a mad-scientist gleam in the woman's eye as she regarded the cloak.

"While perhaps entertaining, the Cloak of Levitation is not pertinent to this conversation," Wong grumbled, giving the Cloak an annoyed look. "Hermione, we cannot advise you on the nature of your own magic. The experience you have with it, your knowledge of its nature, is something that will be intrinsic to you and you alone. You have to decipher what your magic would accept from you."

The woman sat very still, so much so that Strange wondered if she were attempting astral projection. The two men waited, absolutely silent.

Her voice was quiet and measured. "Everything inside me says there's nothing left for me here. I should go, but not without at least trying to save others. I'm not leaving without a fight."

Strange gave her a long look, and the hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. "I think I know how to give them one. I will return within the hour. There is someone whose expertise I need to consult."

"And I must return to the Sanctum," Wong stated. "I take it you will not require me for this plan of yours?"

"Oh," Strange replied with another intense look at Hermione, "I believe my wife and I will manage this quite nicely on our own."

With a nod, Wong disappeared through a portal.

Strange lingered a moment behind the departing Wong, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything I should know?"

The man smiled enigmatically. "Let's just say we're going to give that gossip rag something to _really _talk about."


	4. Chapter 4

The dissolution of their marriage was surprisingly simple.

It was done quietly in the Registry office, which was tucked away in a rather pleasant part of the Ministry, near the staff break areas just off the atrium. The fountain was just audible down the short hallway, and the windows here were charmed with a beautiful spring day.

The Registry witch looked at the two of them askance, however, when they announced their intention of _dissolving _their marriage. Blessedly, she refrained from asking questions, instead pulling Hermione's marriage registration form out of the file and casting _Finite Incantatem _upon it. The paper floated down into Hermione's hands and lay there, inert. The magical bond was gone.

As they left out a side door, there were no hordes of reporters, no Ministry officials there to observe their departure. After all, they were now terribly, terribly busy.

Mainly because, this morning, she had called a press conference.

Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio, political activist and near-recluse, had promised the _Prophet _a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet her new husband, who would be introduced in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. _sharp _.

She had made the same offer to every wizarding publication and media outlet.

Upon their arrival, the Quick-Quotes Quills were at the ready, and the WWN broadcasters were running live commentary like it was a Quidditch pregame. Photographers hovered in front of the large podium that had been set up with the Fountain of Magical Brethren behind it.

The two of them had long since entered the Ministry via the phone booth, and registered Hermione's wand at the security desk upon check-in. Strange's presence elicited a few twitters and mumblings from Ministry personnel, but those few they encountered that early were already aware of the press conference.

"Ready?" Strange said under his breath.

"I'd best be by now," Hermione replied, clutching her beaded bag nervously.

They stepped out onto the platform together, to the popping of flashbulbs and the scratching of quills.

"Good morning," Hermione began, calmly professional. "Thank you all for joining me today. As most of you know, I have opposed the Marriage Law for the Promotion of Wizarding Wealthfare from its inception. I have long condemned it as a misogynist, reactionary, fear-mongering attempt to infringe upon the basic human rights of every witch in the Wizarding World. It is the act of a totalitarian government, which I have sworn to counter at every turn."

A few of the gathered journalists frowned uneasily. This was not what they had signed up for.

"As many of you may guess, I chose a husband before the law took effect, in order to not be subject to that law myself. I had thought to exploit a loophole in the law, to escape a fate I fear will be no better than chattel slavery. I selected a name at random, and the marriage contract accepted it. I thought I had won."

The crowd began muttering, but Hermione plowed on.

"What I have come to learn, however, is that magic will not be deceived nor denied. The marriage contract accepted this name because it did belong to a wielder of magic. So I am, for the present, married in a manner acceptable under the Marriage Law."

This pronouncement brought utter silence. Where was she going with this?

"I have not wavered from my commitment to oppose this unjust, injurious law with every action and every fiber of my being. That is why I brought you all here today. I can no longer stand idly by and hope to change this law through the same channels that made it. Today, I make a stand."

There was a sudden movement at the back of the room - someone running down the hall towards the elevators. The crowd was nervous, tensing at what was to come.

"Today," Hermione repeated, "I make a stand. I am here to tell all the witches who are listening, or reading, that this law can be circumvented. There is a loophole that will work, that will free you from being auctioned off like cattle, from your government telling you when and with whom to have children. The only requirement is this: You must leave the Wizarding World."

Shouting erupted from somewhere down the hall, the tromping of booted feet close behind.

"Do not be afraid! You will not lose your magic, only permission to use a wand. You must abide by the Statute of Secrecy, as it is an international law, but whatever magic you can perform wandlessly, you will still have. Abandon those who have abandoned you, your well-being, your self-determination! Leave your wand behind, and gain back your lives!"

Aurors were attempting to jostle through the throng of journalists, but it was slow going through so many people.

"I promised to introduce you to my husband, and here he is: Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Protector of Earth. If ever you require sanctuary from the Wizarding World, find us at 177A Bleecker Street, New York City. Ask for me or Doctor Strange, and you will be provided for."

As the first Aurors pushed past the photographers and began to rush the podium, Hermione turned.

"Shall we go, Doctor Strange?" she asked, offering the man her arm.

He took it with a sly smile. "Please, call me Stephen."

With a loud pop, they disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

In the privacy of the back alleyway in which the Ministry exit had deposited them, the newly-divorced couple took a moment to collect themselves. Hermione's carefully composed demeanor suddenly dissolved, and she leaned against a wall, exhausted.

Stephen bent down slightly to catch her eye. "Rough day?"

"You could say that," she managed. "We can't stay here long - they'll check all the exits within about five minutes."

"Then we'll travel my way this time," he replied, opening a portal directly into the Sanctum Sanctorum, ushering for her to go first.

When they were both safely through and the portal closed, Hermione released the breath she'd been holding. "Merlin, if I never hold a press conference again, it will be too soon."

"So she finally wised up and divorced you, did she?" Wong said as he came down the large stairway that dominated the room.

"So she did," Stephen said simply, though the pronouncement gave him an odd pang in his chest.

"I don't think I'll be marrying anyone sight unseen again," Hermione chuckled lightly.

"Well then, happy divorce," Wong said as he thrust an oblong package into Hermione's hands.

"What's this?" she said, turning the box over curiously.

"It would have been a wedding present, but even twenty-four hour delivery wasn't fast enough." Wong's expression never changed, but Hermione could have sworn she heard amusement in his voice.

"Perhaps it should be a housewarming gift," Stephen said, giving Wong a look that said _I'll explain later. _

"Perhaps," Hermione replied absently, as if lost in thought.

"Open it," Wong insisted.

Hermione carefully undid the ribbon, and lifted the lid. Inside was a beautiful wooden comb with wide-spaced teeth. The top edge was curved, making it fit snugly into her hand. All along the top edge was a carved scene: a stylized lion roaring at a dragon in flight.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, and when she looked up to thank him, Wong saw tears in her eyes.

"You are clearly the lion," he said gruffly, "with that unruly mane."

"More so than you know," she said, and the smile that followed her tears was dazzling indeed.

"What will you do now?" Stephen asked her.

"I don't know, find an apartment? A job? Apply to uni? There are so many possibilities, I can't think where to start."

"There is a spare room upstairs if you want it."

Hermione looked up, astonished. "Wong, are you sure?" She turned to Stephen. "Is that okay? I don't want to impose."

"It will be no imposition. I think, rather, it will assist your training admirably."

"My training?" Hermione frowned.

Stephen nodded. "Wong is right: you do show considerable promise as a student of the mystic arts. You could most certainly study them here."

"I couldn't possibly ask you to teach me," she demurred. "Wouldn't that be awkward, after what I did?"

"I doubt Wong would be embarrassed in the least," Stephen said with a wry half-smile.

"Oh," she said, suddenly quiet. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," Wong replied. "But for now, I will show you to your room."

Hermione nodded and followed him upstairs, but not without a backward glance at Stephen. Twenty-four hours, Wong had said. A rough day, indeed.

* * *

When Wong returned, he arched an eyebrow at Strange. "Taking in waifs and strays now, are we?"

"And what was Kamar-Taj, but a place for those with nowhere else to go?" Strange said by way of reply.

Wong just grunted at that. "She marries and divorces you, and now you'll just keep her?"

"I won't keep her, precisely. But I will give her a place to keep herself..."

Wong zeroed in on the man's hesitation at once. "What it is, Strange?" he demanded.

"...and any of her kind fleeing the Marriage Law who seek refuge here."

Wong closed his eyes, and shook his head. "Just so I don't have to buy the groceries."

"You never buy the groceries," Strange scoffed. "But Hermione will provide for them. She transferred all of her funds over into mundane currency before we left for the Ministry, most of it in a registered non-profit account. She is...quite well-prepared to take care of her people."

Wong's eyebrows rose up to his nearly non-existent hairline. "Where would a woman who lives in a tiny place like that get money like that?"

"The awards that article glossed over were quite numerous, and some came with considerable monetary benefits," Strange shrugged. "Hermione is, evidently, some kind of war hero."

In spite of himself, Wong nodded his approval.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late evening when Hermione came downstairs again, looking sleep-mussed but rested.

She found Stephen sitting in a small study off the main entrance hall, sitting in a broad armchair in front of a fireplace. He was staring into the flames that crackled gently in the hearth.

"May I?" she asked, peeking in through the doorway.

"Please," he said, indicating the chair across from him.

Her feet bare on the cool flagstone floors, she padded into the room and curled up in the chair.

Stephen snapped his fingers, and a small quilt appeared over her lap and tucked itself gently around her.

"This one isn't sentient, like your Cloak, is it?" she asked, amused.

"Fortunately not," he replied, with an easier smile than she'd seen throughout the day and a half or so that she'd known him.

It was odd, Hermione considered, to be so far away from everything she'd ever known, and yet she still felt at home. She hadn't quite had the courage to try any more magic after she'd spirited Stephen away into the Registry office. She didn't feel any different than before, but what did she know? In any case, a sudden wordless, wandless Side-Along Apparition had drained her quite thoroughly, although she had attempted to hide that fact for as long as she could.

She had the feeling Stephen had known, anyway.

They had agreed beforehand that she had to be the agent of their escape, and that he would not display any magic at all unless she were somehow incapacitated. It was crucial to keeping the _Prophet _and the rest of the wizarding media on the topic of Hermione's _purposeful _departure. If Stephen appeared to be in control of anything whatsoever, they would latch onto it, and then they'd scream about abduction by a mad Muggle or some similarly ridiculous thing.

No, it had to be her. Her will. Her choice. Her actions.

It didn't make it easier, though, being gone now. She'd had to make all these plans without notifying a single person. Harry would forgive her, of course, as would Neville and Luna, but the others she couldn't be certain about. It would be a long time before Ron would speak to her again after this. He always did know how to hold a grudge.

She shivered. It sank in, finally, how very far she was from home.

"That was a brave thing you did," Stephen said into the silence.

She looked up. He was contemplating her now, as he had been contemplating the fire when she came in. "I don't feel brave," she said, scarcely above a whisper. "I feel like I've run away."

"You did," he agreed, but his tone didn't express the condemnation she felt herself. "But you also left a trail to follow. It may be that you will inspire others to bravery, too."

She huffed out a laugh. "I suppose we'll see, won't we?"

There was a glint in his eye that may or may not have been the fire. "Yes," he responded thoughtfully, "we will."

"I think I might like to learn magic, the way you do it," she said simply, after the silence had stretched out between them once again. "If you are willing to teach me."

He took a breath and held it briefly before he answered. "Wong should teach you, I think. I would…prefer not to."

Hermione let her head fall slightly. She had been expecting something like this. "I understand."

"I'm not sure you do."

She looked up at him again. The glint was definitely not just the fire.

"I should prefer," he began quietly, "to spend time with you more...freely...than the roles of teacher and student would allow. If that is alright with you, that is."

"Oh," Hermione replied, softly. "No, I'd… I'd like that."

The corner of Stephen's mouth curled up the tiniest bit. "We could start with dinner, if you like. Do you know what time it is?"

Without thinking, Hermione cast a wordless _Tempus _. The time floated in front of their eyes in the darkness: 02:26.

Hermione's face lit up. "It's not gone," she said, marveling. "It's a bit late for dinner, though," she frowned.

"Nonsense," Stephen said, standing up. "You ever been to an American diner? There's a fairly decent one just a few minutes' walk from here."

Summoning her bag and shoes, Hermione grinned. "It's a date."


End file.
